


Duty

by Korzok (doitsuki)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Culture, Alien Food, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Belly Kink, Bonding, Canon Divergence, Catlike Galra, Comfort Food, Dating, Emotional Infidelity, Food Kink, Friends to Lovers, Fur Kink, HAIRY BOIS, Heavy Petting, Hurt/Comfort, Id Fic, Infidelity, Intersex, M/M, Manhandling, Marking, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Morvok is Soft (TM), Purring, Scenting, Season 2 spoilers, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Weight Gain, Weight Issues, Wet Clothing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-10 03:45:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15282858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doitsuki/pseuds/Korzok
Summary: When Morvok's first and most dearly beloved partner of two years begins acting suspiciously, it's up to Sendak to make things right.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Canon Divergence: Takes place a few months after S2E7, and implies that Sendak was never captured by Voltron. He escaped and has been doing his duties as usual.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still pretty new to the Voltron fandom but I dearly adore the Galra and figured I'd start exploring how I feel about them with a little fanfic! Please be gentle ;v;
> 
> There are kink elements in here, and explicit material may be present in future chapters. Vrepit sa!

In the past few months since Voltron’s visit to the Space Mall, Vrepit Sal’s business had been booming. What he learned from Hunk’s demonstrations had increased customer satisfaction tenfold, and Sal had actually learned how to properly serve people instead of bluntly telling them to _ingest_. Today, he bustled about the kitchen while keeping an eye on the two Galra sitting a few feet from the front counter. There, in a little semicircular booth with padded orange seats sat Commander Sendak and someone else. Someone whose face was hidden by the edge of the table, up until he whipped out a device from his pocket and puffed up a cushion to sit on. Even then, Sal didn’t recognize him. Commander Morvok wasn’t exactly the shining example of Galra supremacy plastered on billboards throughout the Empire. Sendak, however, was Zarkon’s right hand man and if his face didn’t ring a bell, his arm sure did. The massive mechanical prosthetic was too large to simply rest on the table or in his lap, so it sat on the floor with the energy arcs keeping it together neatly coiled up.

“Aaaalright! There we go. Now I can see you.” Morvok chirped, ears perked up and looking genuinely glad to see the dour face of his coworker. “Sendak! How’ve you been?”

“Busy.” Sendak grunted. He sat with his back straight, shoulders squared and brows furrowed as if he couldn’t take the stick out of his professional ass for even a second.

“Tense, too.” Morvok noted with a wiggle of his index finger. “Come, relax. We own this place, nothing’s going to happen.”

“You think I am afraid?” Sendak’s mechanical eye clicked as it locked on to Morvok, who abruptly shrank back into his seat. “No.”

“Just stressed, then? What’s the Emperor been up to that has you so stiff?”

“I am _not_ stiff.” Sendak grumbled, cutting his gaze away to Vrepit Sal’s. “When is our food going to arrive?”

“I was just thinking the exact same thing.” Morvok nodded eagerly, the curled tips of his ears bouncing up and down.

In the kitchen, Vrepit Sal ducked down and thumped one of his serving robots on the head. It was a new model, with cute triangular sensors on either side of its silver-domed head.

“Alright, send it out.” Sal gave a thumbs up and the robot meeped, carrying two large trays out to the Commanders. Morvok’s eyes lit up at the sight of a plate heaped with thick, juicy worms from a planet far away, his absolute favourite delicacy in the whole Empire. Sendak had ordered something simple – meat strips drenched in a sticky black sauce. The robot set both platters down on the table and inclined its floating head.

“Enjoy your meal!” It then zoomed off back to the kitchens, and Sendak eyed his plate warily. He was so accustomed to eating the bland grey food goo rationed throughout the Galra Empire that something like this seemed like a novelty. As if he were meant to play with it between his fingers, feel the textures or some shit. Bah. What a waste of time.

Morvok on the other hand was absolutely ravenous and went to pick up a worm, only to have the silver bracelet around his left wrist beep in warning. Sendak glanced to it, and then smirked.

_‘Unbelievable. He even has a safeguard to keep from burning his greedy little mouth.’_

“Gah, it’s too hot.” Morvok nudged the plate aside by an inch, and wiggled his fingers in Sendak’s direction. “What did you get? Let me have a taste, mm?”

Sendak merely grunted and let Morvok pick at his meats, rationalizing that if they were somehow poisoned (the chemical makeup of food goo made it impossible to be tainted, so he could trust that) Morvok would be the first to know. It was only three strips later that Sendak pulled the plate back and saw Morvok reach, then flop over the table.

“That’s enough for you.”

Morvok pouted, and poked at his own food. “Hmph.”

“What _are_ those, anyway?” Sendak couldn’t help but wonder _why_ anyone in their right mind would want to eat something that looked like a parasite. Bright blue worms with fat, yellow-striped bodies and thick pink lips held together by toothpicks. They didn’t even look cooked – not that Sendak knew a thing about cooking. Steam rose from the boiled, glistening creatures that were heaped in a nice big pile of about twenty pieces. And they were each the size of Morvok’s dainty little hands. “There’s no way you can eat all of that.”

“Oh, just you wait.” Morvok picked one up, ignoring his bracelet’s beeping. “These are the epitome of intergalactic cuisine.”

“Right.” Sendak observed through a mouthful of meat as Morvok ate a whole worm tail first, biting down on it only to immediately prick his ears up and whine. Sendak rolled his eye. _‘Impatient bastard.’_

“Mnnnnnnh!” Morvok quickly swallowed and then gasped, his dark purple tongue smoking. “Oh, worth it. These are _good_ , Sen, you just have to try one.”

“I’m not burning my tongue.” Sendak said stiffly, though he _was_ curious about these plump little creatures. “I can’t believe people eat this sort of thing. I once fought a similar race back on Kerraxis…”

“Pfftch, you and your fighting. Don’t you think of anything else?”

“Yes,” said Sendak, and Morvok knew he’d been holding his tongue up until now. “About Throk.”

Morvok’s ears wilted, and he averted his gaze. Sendak thumped his mechanical arm against the floor and Morvok twitched back to attention, eyes wide.

“Yes!”

“Throk,” Sendak began, then paused, measuring his words. “How have things been between you and him?” The conversational, almost friendly tone didn’t suit him at all and Morvok’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. Sendak was trying, but for what, the smaller Commander didn’t know. And thus he had to be careful.

“Well enough.” Morvok said, picking up another worm and blowing on it as it dangled before his lips. “What do you want to know?”

“Just how it is, being two years into your… partnership.”

Morvok rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. He’s my _mate_ , not some chipper lapdog following me around on missions.”

Sendak wrinkled his nose, drawing his brows together. Morvok waved his free hand up and down with a shake of his head.

“Don’t do that, it’ll make you wrinkle.”

Sendak stared at him.

“E-er, not that, ahm, any wrinkles or such can be seen beneath your luscious fur, S…Sir…”

Suddenly Sendak burst into laughter, smacking his flesh hand against the table hard enough to make both their plates jump.

“Stars, you really have no idea, do you?”

Morvok pulled his ears back, his morsel by now having gone cold. “Er…”

“Throk’s cheating on you.”

The silence that followed was punctuated only by the _plop_ of the worm hitting Morvok’s plate. Sendak watched him carefully, how he pursed his lips to keep from blurting out something he’d regret, and the flare of his nostrils as he breathed in. Then Morvok was all smiles once more, shaking his head and picking up the worm that had fallen, slipping it into his mouth.

“Oh, pshaw. Throk would never cheat on me!”

“With _Prorok._ ”

Morvok choked, spraying liquid from between his teeth. “GHk! Prorok? No, come on! That old quiznak? With the weird tusks? He’s not even pure Galra-”

“Yes he is, and I saw him adjusting Throk’s uniform in a most inappropriate manner seven quintants ago.” Sendak leaned forwards, gesturing with a floppy piece of roasted meat. “You, Morvok, haven’t the slightest clue what’s going on between them.”

“And I suppose you do?!” Morvok snapped, fur prickling at the back of his neck.

“Yes,” Sendak said simply. “I know just about everything that goes on within the Empire.”

“Oooh, look at me, I’m Commander Sendak, I know eeeeverything. I’m God, Emperor Zarkon looooves me-” Morvok squeaked as Sendak flicked a meat strip right between his eyes, and got sauce all over his neatly combed brow fur. “Hey!”

“Act your age.” Sendak chided. “Look. I felt it was my duty to inform you of the indecency between them, but if you insist on mocking my sincerest efforts to…” The word was lost on him, and Sendak rolled his right hand over and over in the air as he sought it. “…assist you…”

“I don’t need your assistance.” Morvok said snippily, turning up his nose in the opposite direction of Sendak just to prove how disinterested he was. “Now if you’ll excuse me, my food is getting cold.”

Sendak sighed as Morvok got stuck into his plate, quietly observing just how much the smaller galra could put away in minutes. The worms were filled with some sort of savoury broth that popped in the mouth with a zesty tang, something akin to the human tastes of beef stock, lemon and ginger. Morvok lost himself completely in chewing and swallowing every single bite down, a fair bit of liquid trickling from the corners of his mouth and matting the fur on his chin. Sendak wanted to reach out and clean it up, for it bothered him to think of that drying and being absolute hell to wear on one’s face for any length of time. He always licked himself clean after a long battle that often ended up in the complete genocide of whatever enemy dared to stand against him, the blood of an entire race spattered all over his face. Morvok didn’t seem to give two shits, and over time the tension in his body ebbed away and his ears melted against the sides of his head, a gentle purr starting up within his chest. Sendak almost felt guilty for upsetting him in the first place. Nobody had any right to look that cute, least of all a Commander of their glorious Empire. Sendak never knew how Morvok had gotten his position outside of the rumors that went around. Deceit, charm and bootlicking. And a fair bit of dumb luck, too. But for all Morvok’s failings, Sendak couldn’t find it in himself to hate him. Their tenuous friendship had lasted for decades. Or whatever the intergalactic equivalent was.

“Hey.” Sendak leaned forwards a bit, Morvok looking up with unsure eyes. “You going to save some for me?”

Morvok looked at the plate for a moment, contemplating every one of his life choices before picking up one singular worm and holding it out for Sendak. Sendak went to take it but Morvok swerved his hand out of the way and held the worm up to Sendak’s mouth. Sendak narrowed his one good eye, mechanical one tracking around their immediate surroundings.

“A little inappropriate, Morvok.”

“Yes, you’re the expert on that.” Morvok drawled, and pushed the worm right between Sendak’s lips. Sendak straightened up and chewed on it, finding the texture mightily pleasing.

“Mm.”

Then Morvok withdrew the plate and started scarfing down all that was left. “The rest are mine,” he said. “Go order a plate if you want more.” Now there was the selfish little git Sendak remembered. With a fond sigh, he shook his head and began to absently groom himself, licking the back of his wrist and wiping down the corners of his mouth. Morvok finished soon enough and observed, resting his chin in both hands. Sendak’s mechanical eye flicked towards him, and Morvok gave a little wave.

 _‘Seems he’s forgotten what I told him.’_ Sendak thought, tongue darting from his mouth to blep in a moment of thought. _‘Well. I’ve done my duty. Whatever goes on in his life is on him, now.’_ He tried to convince himself that all was well with leaving things be, but something at the back of his mind didn’t like that one bit. Morvok was by no means a naieve little idiot, but he could often be blinded by idealism in the face of unpleasant reality. He wanted to see the best in people, especially those he was close to. Throk and Sendak weren’t the kindest Galra around, yet Morvok stuck by them as if he didn’t have anyone else to consort with. Rather than serving the Empire, it seemed Morvok just wanted to be liked. By as many people as possible, regardless of their relationships with each other. Sendak could sense trouble brewing in the future and how he _ached_ to push Morvok out of the way of it. Morvok had spent his entire life being shit on by the taller, stronger members of their race, and only now had he begun to settle into the comfortable position of Commander. He didn’t need any more heartache.

 _‘Yes he does.’_ said the nastiest part of Sendak’s conscience. _‘Palen Bol is the cornerstone of our culture – it is what makes Galra strong. Morvok will only continue to weaken if he is protected from the harshness of life.’_

“Heeeeeey~” Morvok tilted his head left and right, ears twitching in the most adorable manner. “What are you thinking about, mm?”

“Work.” Sendak managed to reply. “As usual.”

“As usual. Hah! At least you’re self-aware.” Morvok stretched his piddly little arms up and grunted. “Nng! We should probably get back to that work before the Emperor hangs us for taking unsanctioned breaks.”

“Now you sound like me.” Sendak said with a smile, one Morvok mirrored twice as bright.

“Mm hmm. Alright, let me just…” Morvok disappeared beneath the table, turning his cushion back into the small device which he slipped into his bracelet. He jumped down from the seat with an audible grunt of exertion, and Sendak craned his neck to see if he was alright. What he saw made him glad he was still seated.

Morvok had indeed managed to eat the whole plate of food, more than enough for Sendak and almost _too_ much for him. The casual white dress shirt he wore stretched tight around his fat, round belly, patches of silky fur poking out from between the straining buttonholes. His pants weren’t faring much better, the stretchy black fabric pulled taut around his thick thighs and wide ass. Sendak sucked in a sharp breath, willed himself to stay in control and stood. Morvok watched him rise, all the while fussing with the hem of his shirt to keep it down where it was supposed to be – and not riding up like it wanted to. At his full height, Sendak was an absolute behemoth compared to Morvok, and frightfully intimidating. Morvok grinned sheepishly at him. And the fur of his chin was still matted with that sauce – no, Sendak _couldn’t_ touch him, but now the fingers of his mechanical hand were twitching closer to Morvok’s side even though he knew they couldn’t feel. Pressure, sure, but not the softness of Morvok’s plush body, nor the warmth of his delicate fur...

**_BZHGNSSSH!_ **

Sendak’s arm snapped back into place and he rolled his shoulders, looking throughout the mall. From the corner of his eye he could see Morvok shifting about, like he wanted to say something, but Sendak couldn’t concentrate on that now. His thoughts were straying into dangerous territory, and had absolutely nothing to do with his duties. Heat season was just a few weeks away, and some weaker-minded Galra could be susceptible to certain impulses at this time of year. Sendak felt them rising within himself and needed to get away before he did something foolish.

“I’ll see you soon.” Sendak growled, straining to keep the lust from his deep, rich voice. “Remember what I told you.”

“R-right! Tell the Emperor I said hi!” Morvok waved awkwardly, biting his tongue as Sendak strode away. He’d done something wrong, hadn’t he? Sendak usually gave him some sort of contact when they parted ways, like a pat on the shoulder or even nudge between the ears. And now, the taller Commander was out of sight as if he had to use the bathroom _immediately_. Maybe he just wasn’t used to Sal’s food. Morvok loved the stuff, and had it shipped to his residence whenever he could. Being a Commander did have its benefits. But so too did it have drawbacks, such as having to conduct himself properly in the public eye. Morvok looked down at himself and mewled softly. He was _stuffed_. Had he been wearing his stretchy uniform, he wouldn’t have been able to breathe after eating all those worms. And even though he was full to bursting, he wanted _more_. What was in those things, anyway?

In the kitchen, Sal peered at the chubby little Galra who seemed to be having an existential crisis. Maybe he ought to serve him smaller portions next time. The robots didn’t usually discern between the sizes of their customers, but Sal could very plainly see Morvok struggling to get onto his floating disc and zoom away. He smirked to himself, patting the tub of MSG (Meat Salt for Galra) he had at his side. That little guy would return soon. The Salt never failed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> when bae eat salami but ur vegan ;;;

Morvok got home late that night, sliding into Throk’s personal quarters as silent as could be. He hopped off his floating disc and looked around, eyes easily adjusting to the darkness. Galra could function quite well without much light and Morvok was no exception, picking his way through the mess of his partner’s things with ease. Clothes, containers and bits of weapons that were yet to be put together littered the cold steel floor. It was a right menace on Morvok’s delicate toebeans, but Throk was apparently too much of a hardass to purchase the plush carpeting Morvok so adored. It didn’t matter. As long as they were together, Morvok could put up with anything.

“Throk?” Morvok called softly, not wanting to wake his lover but at the same time yearning to hear his voice.

“In here.” Throk lay in bed with his long legs hanging over the edge, arms up and typing away at a holographic screen. Morvok entered the bedroom and climbed up on the bed, batting his long lashes at Throk.

“What’re you doing up so late?”

“None of your business.” Throk replied tersely, not taking his eyes from the screen for a second. “Where’ve you been?”

“Out.” said Morvok, and apparently that was enough of an answer for Throk, who fell silent. Morvok’s ears wilted. _‘I thought you’d be happy to see me.’_ Sendak’s warning came to the forefront of his mind and Morvok stiffened, pushing it away as far as he could. He didn’t want to give the thought any sort of legitimacy by even considering it, and hopped off the bed to get changed. He bustled about getting his shirt off, peeling his tight pants away and sighing in relief. Oh, it felt _good_ to be free of that abhorrent squeeze. He really needed to buy new clothes. His casualwear hadn’t been fitting for years, but he just… _hated_ shopping. So, so much. Nothing ever fit, and when it did, it was either too long or too thin. And he didn’t like the cut of the clothes made for Galra children, either. Didn’t suit his style at all. The thought came to him that perhaps he could create his own clothing line for the discerning, smaller citizens of the Empire. But there was no point, was there? Nobody else looked like him. He was the shortest Commander in Galra history, according to Zarkon’s late-night ramblings. Slouching his shoulders, Morvok bundled up his clothes and tossed them into the pile near Throk’s overflowing wardrobe. He glanced back at his lover, envying those long legs and corded muscles. That sleek, purple fur and the sharp angles of his face. Morvok looked like a butterball in comparison, and hated himself for it. He crawled back onto the bed, having to jump to pull himself up on the thick mattress. Throk flicked an ear in his direction but otherwise paid no attention to him, far too absorbed in whatever he was doing on his screen. Morvok wriggled under the thick black bedcovers, nude and warm as he snuggled up to Throk’s side. Abruptly, Throk clicked something and the text on his screen changed. It was now encrypted, and where Morvok had been able to catch bits of the text before, now he couldn’t understand a thing. He peered in confusion at the garbled writing scrolling across the eye-searing blue hologram. It was ass o’clock in the morning; time to sleep. And Throk didn’t seem like he was going to snooze any time soon.

“How long have you been up?” Morvok asked, his breath hot against Throk’s shoulder.

“Few hours. What, you tired?”

“Mhmm.” Morvok nuzzled Throk’s neck, hoping for a bit of affection, and instead got the holographic screen tossed over his head, plastering itself to the wall where it powered down. He lowered his ears apprehensively, peeping at Throk while sinking further beneath the covers. Throk sniffed, then turned to him and snarled.

“What _is_ that smell?”

Morvok lifted his brows. “Er, I ate something that wasn’t food goo, why? You want some? We can go to Vrepit Sal’s tomorrow and-“

“You clean that off, _now_.”

Morvok didn’t move. “Could you…”

“Absolutely not. I don’t need your weird tastes corrupting my palate.”

“Oh, come on!” Morvok whined. “It’s absolutely delicious! You sure you don’t want a taste?” He pursed his lips as cutely as he could, but Throk only grunted and turned away.

“No. Clean your face. What are you, a child?”

Morvok’s expression darkened. He swiftly turned his back to Throk, glowering at the wall as he licked the backs of his wrists and started cleaning his face. The taste of his matted fur reminded him of the conversation he’d had with Sendak, and by the stars, he did _not_ need that right now. He chewed on his fur, nibbling until it stung. That was distracting at least, up until the point where he felt hair on his tongue and tried to spit it out, coughing violently. Throk ignored him, stretching his arms out before pulling them close, curling up. It was the only way he could fit on the standard-issue bed all Galra soldiers had in their quarters, and quite frankly he was fine with it. Morvok, however, had yet to grow used to being in such a vast bed with someone else. Typically, he would position himself on Throk’s chest and cuddle together for warmth. Tonight, he just felt alone. He curled in on himself, nibbling on his thumbnail and doing his best to chase unwanted thoughts away. But they kept him up for hours, and he was only beginning to drift off when he felt Throk shift out of bed. Morning had come, and they had work to do. Not together, heavens no. For the Empire, they each had separate duties within their own assigned quadrants of the galaxy. Zarkon hadn’t been giving Morvok anything much to do as of late, supposedly to allow the Commander to take initiative and do what he thought was best. Unfortunately, Morvok thought very little for the Empire and more for himself, and figured today he might go to some random point in space and watch the stars. Exhausted, he stayed curled in a little ball as Throk dressed himself, then went to get breakfast. Food goo tasted like nothing, yet Throk ate it almost religiously, avoiding anything else. Morvok couldn’t blame him – he’d been raised to trust only the word of Emperor Zarkon, who had the exact same skin colour as Galra-issue food goo. Probably tasted the same, too.

 _‘Gah, I have to do something._ ’ Morvok summoned the willpower to get out of bed, finding it completely nonexistent as he turned over and whined. He tucked his arms and legs beneath his body and formed the shape of a loaf, pressing his face into Throk’s still-warm pillow. Ahh. The scent comforted him somewhat, and he stayed there for a good half-hour until Throk came back to collect something. The taller Galra looked at him, then gave him a poke between the ears.

“Oi. Get up.”

“Mnyuuuu…” Morvok mewled feebly, scrunching himself down even more.

“Oh, for quiznak’s sake.” Throk reached in and picked Morvok up, his hands large enough to completely cover his partner’s soft chest. “What’s the matter with you?”

Morvok hung limp in his arms, like a kit being dragged around by the scruff. He didn’t know what to say, his mind full of Throk and Zarkon and goo. It _felt_ like goo, mushy grey shit with the flavor profile of scrap metal. His thoughts were sluggish and senseless, not a hint of urgency or motivation to be found anywhere at all. Only Throk’s slender fingers pressing into the meat of his chest kept him grounded, and he focussed on their warmth. How firm they were, holding him up in the air while his limbs dangled uselessly. Throk could throw him out the window and Morvok wouldn’t care. Or so he thought.

“Come on. Don’t you have work to do?” Throk shook him a little, and Morvok groaned.

“No…”

“Then what? You’re just going to sleep all day?”

“I guess.”

Throk narrowed his golden eyes, dropping Morvok from six feet up onto the bed. Morvok landed on all fours and scrambled to turn around and shoot the most menacing glare he could up at his partner. Throk returned it, and Morvok shrank away.

“I’m sorry, I just… don’t know what I want to do today. That’s all.”

“Serve the Empire.” said Throk, “And do it now, because I’m locking the door.”

“Oh? Have you got somewhere to be today?” Morvok scooted off the bed and went to grab his uniform, pulling it on with a few grunts and rubbery snaps. “Visiting Prorok, perhaps?”

Throk’s lips curled back, his ears sticking right out. “What?”

“Just thought you might be going to see one of your _friends_.” Morvok emphasized that last word with a throaty growl, the kind that was comically high-pitched in comparison to Throk’s response.

“For your information,” Throk said, stalking over to stand behind Morvok “I’m in charge of quelling an uprising of rebels in the Garvinus system.”

“Oh, that’s far.” Morvok turned and walked right around Throk’s feet, making a pointed effort to not look at him. “Don’t be away too long, hm? I’ll miss you ever so much.” There wasn’t a hint of sincerity in his voice, and Throk didn’t appreciate it. He followed Morvok to the kitchen, where a bowl of cold goo sat on the steel-topped table.

“Morvok.”

Morvok dipped a spoon into the goo and started eating it, flicking an ear in Throk’s direction. Still, his eyes were directed into his bowl. “Mm?”

“Don’t let me hear about you and Sendak again.” Then he was gone, out the door and locking it behind him. Morvok could unlock it easily enough, but his lover’s words hung heavy in the air.

 _‘Me and Sendak…? What could he…’_ Then he remembered. The innocent morsel he’d offered his friend. How could Throk _possibly_ know about that? And why would he care? Morvok put his head in his hands, spoon scraping against the side of his empty bowl.

_‘What… is going on…?’_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (my focus drink ran out so I’m flying blind here, some things might not flow as clearly RIP) (also I’m p much gonna just write whatever I want so good luck lmao)

Prorok was waiting in the High Command’s communal lounge for Throk, eagerly watching the time tick by. He had all sorts of data on his holo-bracelet, able to pull up screens full of the reports his lieutenants left him right beside cute cat renders and number games. And what did he focus on? His watch. Throk had roasted him two weeks ago for being three minutes late to their secret rendezvous, and Prorok itched for an opportunity to one-up the lanky fuck. He reclined on a plush purple couch, thick legs neatly arranged beneath his large body. Prorok was blessed with the broad shoulders and fearsome stature of a true warrior, with the appetite to match. He just lacked the discipline to keep a cut figure like Sendak, who thankfully wasn’t around to judge him. In one hand, Prorok nibbled on an energy bar while the seconds on his watch ticked by. Pastel blue digits against a black screen. Easy enough on the eyes.

Throk walked into the lounge right on time, and Prorok almost cursed aloud.

“Miss me?” said Throk with a wicked, toothy smile stretching across his entire face.

“Sure did.” Prorok got up and clasped forearms with Throk in a traditional soldier’s greeting. “Have you eaten yet? You look like you’re about to ravish me bloody.”

“Oh, come off of it. It’s too early for that.” Throk bent down and nosed at his friend’s cheek, taking in his scent. Familiar, untainted, and just as he remembered it. Good. “I see you’ve got your day’s sustenance set.”

“What, this?” Prorok glanced at the glowing purple bar which now oozed out creamy white filling. He was holding it perhaps a little too tightly, and shoved it in his mouth. “Mnghah. Barely a snack.”

“Sure, sure.” Throk eyed the way Prorok swiped his tongue along his upper lip, then poked it out towards his left cheek. “Mn, got a little something there.” He dipped in and Prorok raised his head to allow Throk to lick the right corner of his lips, where a dab of cream had trickled down his tusk. Galra didn’t usually grow those, but Prorok was the exception. The wonderfully masculine, thickset and toothy exception. He couldn’t help but smile at the feeling of Throk’s rough tongue against his fur, and glanced around without moving his head.

“Hnn, we shouldn’t here.”

“Shouldn’t what?” Throk drew back, that same devilish smile playing at his lips. His sharp eyes twinkled with ill intent, or perhaps it was desire. All his expressions looked thoroughly malicious, and Prorok had yet to decipher them. “I’m simply helping my fellow Commander keep himself clean and pristine.”

“Only the best for the Empire.” Prorok agreed, entirely serious and perhaps a little bashful, too. The sensation of being licked left him giddy in the pit of his stomach, a lightness in his muscles that made him want to throw his arms in the air and laugh. That weightless feeling only grew as Throk brushed his long fingers along Prorok’s cheek and fondled the fluffy base of his ear.

“Up for a little adventure?”

“I assume you two are adventuring into the Garvinus system, hoping to run into the warring forces in _desperate_ need of aid?” Sendak’s booming voice thinned to a nasty sneer, his knee-high boots silent against the carpeted floor. Prorok nearly jumped out of his skin, having been so focussed on Throk’s lovely gaze and touch that he’d missed Sendak in his peripheral vision. Throk whirled around and bared his teeth.

“What are _you_ sneaking around for?”

Sendak stopped a few feet away from the pair and tilted his chin up, mechanical eye flashing dangerously. Throk’s defensive jib hadn’t slipped past him. Nothing did.

“Simply reminding you two that there is _work_ to be done, unless you’d like me to take care of it?”

Prorok tugged on Throk’s uniform from behind. How kind, for Sendak to take on their duties so they could elope! But Throk knew better, and arched his back.

“You lay one finger on my mission and I’ll wear your scalp as a hat.”

Sendak didn’t bat an eyelid and instead turned on his heel, having seen enough. Prorok on the other hand was stuck with the awful mental image of a freshly scalped Sendak and shuddered.

“Eesh, Throk, ease up on the creativity there. You’ll give me nightmares.”

Throk turned to him with such raw fury in his eyes that Prorok took a half-step back. _‘Oh, he really doesn’t like him, does he?’_ he thought, listening to Sendak’s footsteps clicking down the hall and fading into nothingness. Only the hum of the lounge’s heating circuits and Throk’s heavy breathing could be heard. Prorok raised his large hands to place them on Throk’s chest and soon felt his racing heart beneath the thin fabric of his uniform.

“Easy, there.” Prorok’s low, measured voice soothed Throk from boiling rage to a light simmer, and then Throk took a step forth. Their bodies pressed together, the two Galra were chest to… well, nose, as Throk was just that much taller than his companion. He began to purr quietly, the sound rattling like an old engine. “You’re alright.” Prorok whispered, stroking along Throk’s spine with his thick, heavy fingers. “Let’s go.”

 

Their ‘mission’ as it was had no need for two Commanders – but the presence of two Battlecruisers turned the fight into absolute annihilation of the disorganized rebel forces. Voltron wasn’t there to save them as they were swiftly slaughtered by ion cannons, fleets of fast fighters and excellent joint leadership. It was over in a matter of hours, and Throk decided to take Prorok on the scenic route back to their home colony. A week’s worth of floating through space, refueling wherever they pleased and enjoying the romantic backdrop of cosmic debris. Stars, planets, and the discarded remnants of past civilizations the Galra had conquered.

Prorok sat with Throk on their first night together for dinner, under the completely innocent pretense of two comrades sharing a meal. In a private sitting room staffed by three robotic sentries. To the right of their table stretched a huge convex window, offering the enthralling view of a rainbow nebula dotted with many bright star clusters. Prorok nibbled on the edge of his spork, admiring the colours highlighting Throk’s angular face. It was a curious relationship they shared, where both were comfortable with each others company be it in silence or at work. It wasn’t unheard of for two Commanders to work together, but at such high ranks most preferred to keep their exploits confined to their own staff. Everyone was fighting to get to the top, but not in such a manner that warranted secrecy and sabotage. It was that kind of dedication and ambition that saw Zarkon’s Empire running smoothly, where everyone did their damned best at their jobs.

Throk and Prorok were both secure enough in their positions that they could begin reaching out to each other, going on missions together and coordinating attacks. Their subordinates didn’t have the slightest clue what was going on with the two Commanders, and gossip was forbidden on Throk’s orders. Prorok didn’t seem to mind.

They were friendly with each other, but Galra didn’t pursue relationships outside of their alignments. It just didn’t happen. Throk was an Alpha, Prorok too - though nobody had confirmed the latter. The way he held himself certainly wasn’t with the submissive hunch of a beaten Omega, though. No, that was Morvok’s thing. Not that anyone paid attention to him so far down on the ground.

Throk and Prorok worked together whenever they could, and Throk was quite grateful for it as his underlings were quite professional and Prorok was the only one he could actually make conversation with. Conversation that didn’t end in “ _yes sir”_ or “ _vrepit sa”_. Outside of work, Throk didn’t really have any friends. His aggressive manner often kept people in fear of his sharp tongue and sharper claws, which had been known to rend flesh beneath even the thickest of fur. There was a reason why Morvok had that scar atop his head. Throk liked to leave his marks.

Prorok on the other hand was fairly easygoing with his soldiers, but not to the point where they could disrespect him. He was very careful with his staff on missions and had retained some of the same Galra in his service over many, many decades. They were all loyal to him, and he treated them well. Despite his gruff exterior, imposing form and thick eyebrows, Prorok had a good reputation for being a solid, dependable Commander. And his most loyal Lieutenant Thace ensured nothing stood in his way.

“Throk.” Prorok drew his companions attention with a single, low growl. “How are things at home?”

“Eh.” Throk made a flippant gesture with his left hand, lacquered claws glittering. “Could be better. Morvok’s being a complete waste of space, nothing new there. Went out with Sendak the other day. Bastard.”

“Oh, he’s not that bad.” Prorok took a bite of his food, the same goo Throk was having only heated up with some seasoning on top. “Just a bit strong-willed, is all.”

“Pfah. He’s after something, I know it. Probably trying to distract me so I screw up and get demoted.” Throk’s eyes were slits of gold now, shadowed beneath his brow. Prorok reached out and put a gentle hand on his forearm, smiling softly.

“Hey. You’re overthinking it. I’m sure everything will turn out fine, given enough time. Isn’t that how it always goes?”  
“I guess.” Throk realized just how sullen he looked, his reflection scowling at him from his plate. He lifted his head, turning to gaze outside. “Rrgh. I’m not used to maintaining things. Zarkon wants me leading a strike force, not keeping shit in order.”

“That’s why you send your soldiers to do it for you. Use that tactical mind of yours for something bigger, hm?” Prorok rubbed at Throk’s arm encouragingly before withdrawing his hand. Throk curled his lip.

“I know how to do my job.”

They continued to eat in silence, Throk’s thoughts drifting from work to the home Prorok had so graciously inquired about. His place was a mess, and he’d locked Morvok in without thinking of the consequences. He hated to admit it, but the little shit could out-banter him any day and Throk was finding it harder and harder to keep from delivering one swift kick to Morvok’s backside every time they argued. It hadn’t been like this in the beginning. They’d been good to each other, even if Morvok showed more than a few codependent tendencies that Throk had ignored.

Their relationship had been built on mutual pleasures. Morvok knew how to make Throk feel good simply by being there, so much _lesser_ that all of Throk’s insecurities were erased. He didn’t have to feel stupid or useless or anxious when Morvok was at his side. People didn’t look at him, and thus Throk felt secure. And if Morvok felt any ill effects, he certainly didn’t show it. Throk provided Morvok with the acceptance and companionship he craved, the closeness Morvok couldn’t trust anyone with. Throk stood up for him, beside him, without shame. Throk paid attention to him, ruffled his fur, actually _touched_ him. Fed him the affection he craved. Morvok couldn’t live without it.

Yet now, he suffered.

 

Morvok stood atop his flying disc, preparing to leave after several hours of fussing. He’d spent years trying to earn the right to free time, as lower-ranked soldiers were frequently sent out into battle all over the universe. Now he was a Commander, and even looked the part in his neat stretchy uniform that highlighted his curves in a most slimming fashion. He had all the time in the galaxy. And yet he knew not what to do with it.

“Oh, quiznak.” he muttered, picking at the underseam of his skintight bodysuit. “That’s not supposed to be that tight…” He glanced back at his buttocks, where they melted into his thighs and pushed against the overstretched fabric. Had it shrunk in the cleaning turbine? Throk usually operated the thing, Morvok hadn’t the slightest clue how to…

No.

It fit, and there was no point in worrying over it now, was there? He had places to go, things to see! There was a match going down at the Arena today, and he did love to indulge in the senseless blood sport now and then. Not participating, just watching. Stars preserve him if he dared compete.

Morvok drew in a half-breath, then exhaled, sucking in his stomach. He observed himself in a mirror thrice his height, turning this way and that.

_‘I suppose that’ll do.’_

The Arena was full of Galra, their purple heads and dark uniforms making for a sea of danger Morvok had to navigate. One wrong glance and someone would pick a fight with him, trouble he’d much rather avoid. Despite his position, bigger and stronger Galra were always trying to one-up him, and he couldn’t really blame them. It was ingrained into their culture, to laud the strong and crush the weak. Not that Morvok was particularly weak. With a gun, he could make for quite the fearsome opponent… providing his enemy didn’t shoot back. He trusted in his evasion skills more than his offensive ones, minding his own business as he floated along behind the audience. Nobody bothered him, just the way he liked it.

He came upon a section of the crowd where a few empty seats lined up in a neat row – just perfect for him to perch at the back and peer over everyone’s heads. The Arena was filling up, though, murmurs passing through the crowd about the next fight. A Commander, showing off his might after years of abstinence.

 _‘An old fool that’ll get himself killed. Very well, then, let’s have a look_.’

Morvok hopped into a seat and suddenly found himself airborne, caught in the grasp of something cold, hard and four-pronged. In a single disorienting swoop, he was pulled over the top of twenty people’s heads and into an empty seat.

“Saw you looking.” Sendak muttered. “Free seat.”

“You- you…!” Fists shaking, Morvok squirmed in the hold of Sendak’s mechanical hand. “You don’t just _grab_ me, you…” He paused, more than hesitant to spew curses at a Galra who could crush him to powder. Someone leaned forwards from beside Sendak and held out two fingers, grinning. “Yo.”

“Hello, Haxus.” Morvok sighed, feeling the cold grasp loosen up. “Is your Commander always so handsy?”

“Pretty much.” Haxus leaned back with a smirk, Sendak glaring at him with his one good eye. “Relax, enjoy the show. I heard it’s old man Korzok going in barehanded.”

“Barehanded?!” Morvok stumbled then as Sendak adjusted his hand, letting it take up a whole seat at the right height for Morvok to see the arena from. Morvok sat in Sendak’s palm, snapping at him. “Are you done?”

“Quite.” Sendak pressed his middle finger in, poking Morvok in the gut and that shut him up quickly enough. “Eyes forth. It’s starting.”

A door opened down in the Arena and out strode a tall, burly Galra who rivaled even Sendak in height – standing at eight feet tall with a mess of silvery-white hair racing down the back of his head and spine. Sendak clicked his tongue, scrutinizing him with his zoomable prosthetic eye.

“Looks like he’s let himself go.”

“Let him live, it’s been a few decaphoebs.” Haxus chirped, eagerly cramming his mouth full of snacks. Sendak stole a few, gnawing on the strips of meat as he leaned forwards with interest.

Korzok’s bloodthirst seemed tempered in his old age, but his confidence clearly hadn’t waned. Clad in only a pair of skintight black pants without a shred of armor to protect him, he spread his arms out and roared. The crowd cheered, getting a good look at his scarred face on the big screen hanging from the ceiling. Korzok was known for going one on one with the arena's most fierce competitors, and did not fight mere slaves- but powerful beasts that really tested the _victory or death_ philosophy of the Galra. For this old Commander, victory was all he knew. Death did not come to him or his Lieutenants, or any of his underlings for that matter. He took exceedingly good care of them, and received their undying loyalty in return. Ten of them were in the stands watching his return to glory with glowsticks in hand, ears twitching excitedly. Korzok went to wave to them, and was promptly interrupted by the screech of his foe pulling his attention to the right. Some sort of giant insectoid skittered towards him, thrice his height and with a chitinous carapace covering its back. It had twenty arms and a slavering maw full of spiky yellow teeth, breathing a nasty green cloud of acid wherever it turned its six-eyed face. Bug Bastard, it was called. The Arena announcer sure seemed excited to get things going, and after naming both competitors, slammed his hand down on a big red button.

Korzok was armed with nothing other than his own clawed hands, and at the blaring horn that signaled him to fight, he fought. He leapt up onto the bug and grasped one of its arms, cracking the limb in two with the sheer strength of his hands. Morvok winced at the sight, shivering in Sendak’s grasp. Korzok swiveled around suddenly, his enormous, fluffy body dodging a lethal piercing strike. Up on the screen, his muscles could be seen rippling beneath his thick lilac fur. The bug screeched and Korzok roared right back at it, the deep sound reverberating within his chest. It didn't sound Galra. It sounded bestial, like that of an enraged dragon straight out of Monsters and Mana.

Korzok began pummeling the bug's back, several sharp cracks resounding from his fists breaking apart the carapace. The bug flailed around, trying to get him off, and only succeeded by rolling onto its back and crushing Korzok beneath. The crowd gasped, many Galra screaming for him to get back up and fight. Sendak tensed, leaning forth and nearly tipping Morvok out of his hand. Haxus froze mid-chew and stared.

“Get up, damn you!” one of the audience members yelled, someone across the stadium echoing with a “Yeah!”

The roaring of the crowd urges Korzok into a frenzy, and the struggle soon tips in his favour. The bug begins shaking. And quaking. Flailing its legs, it rises into the air with Korzok's beefy arms holding it up above his head. He gets to his feet, breathing heavily. Revitalized with both adrenaline and quintessence, his eyes gleam purple for a split second as he summons all his strength. And then he throws. The bug goes flying to the other end of the arena, a horrible shriek spilling from its maw as black blood sprays from another broken leg. It gets up, charges at Korzok who delivers one swift punch to it right in the side of the head. He's quick, but the bug is quicker, and it tears a gash in his shoulder that spurts thick purple blood all over the place. Korzok grunts, and then growls, his teeth grit. His shoulder aches, the muscles within rent and knitting together only to be torn apart by his every move. But he doesn't care. He'll win, as he always does, and chances a look to where his Lieutenants are sitting in the stands, on the edge of their seats. His ears perk up and he rolls out of the way, narrowly avoiding getting his scalp ripped off by that feral creature.

"Oh, you're in for it now." he snarls, waiting for the thing to charge at him again. It does, and he slides beneath it this time, timing the upward plunge of his sharp claws into its soft underside. The bug howls in agony, Korzok ripping its flesh apart and even tearing with his teeth as he disembowels the thing, nearly drowning in the ichor that spills forth. By now the bug is in its death throes and Korzok heaves it onto its back, jumps on its ruined belly and strips it of both skin and muscle. It's the pain that kills his foe, but that's not enough for Korzok. He dips his hand in, and then holds up the creature's heart for the audience to see. And they go _wild_.

The cacophony is near deafening, but Korzok’s sensitive ears take it in like it’s the sweetest music in the universe. He luxuriates in the praise of his fellows, arms stretched out with the bug’s spurting heart clutched between strong fingers. Its blood is all over him, and there’s not an inch of fur that remains dry after that sticky, frenzied fight. Black and purple blood glisten in tandem on his heaving chest, and it’s with a sting of pain that Korzok remembers his own injury. He turns to the left, takes a huge bite out of the heart and swallows, tossing the rest of it aside. Then with a salute to the crowd, he makes his exit.

Morvok tentatively uncoils his fingers from where he’d been clutching Sendak’s hand, heart racing. “Unbelievable.”

“Quiznak. You see that, boss?” Haxus nudged Sendak only to receive a good shove to the shoulder.

“Language.”

Haxus only laughed, finishing off the rest of his meat snacks. “That was awesome. Old guy’s still got it, eh?”

“So it seems.” While the Arena was being cleaned up, Sendak adjusted himself in his seat and turned to Morvok. “So.” he says, fond of the way Morvok’s ear twitches towards him. “Didn’t think I’d see you here today.”

“Well, why not?” Morvok chirps, turning to sit sideways with his legs tucked under his body and arms supported by Sendak’s thick metal fingers. “I do enjoy a bit of blood sport just like anyone else.”

“No, it’s… hm. I thought you had work to do.”

“That would be my other half.” Morvok closed his eyes, preening at the thought of Throk out in space battling whatever enemies the Galra still had left. “Throk’s out in the Garvinus system securing a whole lot of planets for us.”

“Oh, yeah.” Haxus leaned over to join the conversation. “I think I saw Prorok leaving with him this morning- ow!” He rubbed his head where Sendak had smacked him, fur standing on end. “What was that for?”

Sendak didn’t reply, instead watching Morvok’s face go from open and sociable to downcast in seconds. He lowered his ears apprehensively. The poor bastard wore his heart on his sleeve, and Sendak did not approve. Seeing Morvok so upset did not bode well with him, and he poked at the smaller Galra with his mechanical fingers, trying to distract him. Morvok shifted and actually went to bite the finger nearest his face before he remembered himself and stilled.

“Hey.” Sendak nudged the side of Morvok’s face, scritching at the thick fluff there. Whatever he said next was lost on Morvok, who immediately latched on to the sensation he craved. He rubbed his cheek against Sendak’s finger, easing down to lay on his friend’s massive palm. Without knowing, his legs and arms folded up beneath his body and soon he had bundled himself into a nice little loaf. Loafing was the most comforting position a Galra could take, and Sendak raised his hand so Morvok could see into the Arena at a better angle. But Morvok wasn’t interested in that anymore. Only Sendak’s gentle scritching held his attention, and he didn’t want it to stop. Pleased, Sendak set his finger to play a loop of the same motion so Morvok could enjoy it for as long as he liked. A new match started that drew his gaze soon enough, a band of armored Galra against one enormous, eldritch abomination. The sticky creature threw itself every which way, thick black tentacles curling around the floor and slapping ominously. Blades were swallowed into the gelatinous mass, entire bodies lifted into the air and drowned in viscous goop. Morvok, meanwhile, couldn’t care less as he dipped his head and received a good scratch between the ears. Only Sendak could hear his purring amongst the cheers and shouts of the crowd, and it distracted him in a most pleasant way. An odd warmth bloomed in his chest, shifting to sit a little lower when he glanced at Morvok’s peaceful expression. And by the stars, he looked so _precious_ bundled up like that. Ears flattened back, fur messed up atop his head… Sendak keenly felt the lack of tactile sensation in his mechanical fingers.

 _‘I want… to touch him. I bet he’s soft. Warm.’_ His left eye focussed on Morvok, right idly gazing out into the Arena. Sendak’s mind was far away, far from the usual clarity it held when fielding troops or making split-second decisions. He had the time to chew on his thoughts, and he did.

Such impulses were rare for him, even during heat season as he worked to suppress his instincts through medicine and focus. He was a Commander, and couldn’t let his work be interrupted by something so base and primal as the need to rut. It was still a few weeks away, and Sendak already had his cabinet of supplements stocked for the season. Morvok did no such thing, and Sendak could almost smell it on him. The sweet, alluring scent of a subtly wanting Omega. Now that he considered it, Sendak couldn’t ignore how each breath filled his mind with images, feelings, sounds. The delicate rolling purr he could currently hear from the loafing Morvok. How soft his fur must feel when he was content and well-fed, cared for like an Omega should be. Oh, and the gravid heft of his belly in Sendak’s grasp as he was filled from behind with raw, hot quintessence-

 _‘Stop it. He’s mated.’_ Even as he chided himself, Sendak knew it wasn’t so. Morvok only had a scar aside from his usual fur markings to show that someone had gotten close to him. He lacked the brand many older Galra had hidden on their necks, evidence of a longlasting bond. Throk and Morvok weren’t paired by blood yet – just by words, it seemed, and not kind ones either. Sendak too lacked a brand, being far too busy with his work to even consider matters of the heart. Many suspected tomfoolery between him and Haxus, and while they could wrestle each other to relieve stress now and then, they couldn’t mate for life. They were both Alphas, forever doomed to remain unsatisfied until they shacked up with an Omega. Even a Beta would do. But Sendak? Sendak wanted more than just baseless submission. Oh, many would readily submit to him out of sheer intimidation, but it wouldn’t mean shit. Sendak wanted – well, first he wanted the freedom to complete his duties in Zarkon’s name, but second? He wanted a connection. Someone who could see him curled up on his side as he slept at night and join him, rather than mock his apparent weakness. Someone who would understand when he was too tired for idle chatter and just wanted to rest. Someone who would mourn when he died.

Someone who cared.

He thumbed at Morvok’s cheek, breaking the routine of his programmed fingers to actively pet his face. Morvok rolled onto his side, head tipped back and inviting Sendak to scritch him under the chin. Sendak could only imagine how soft he felt under there, all fluff and warmth. The urge was stronger, now, to reach over with his other hand and stroke him. _Where_ was a different story, but no, he couldn’t do it. It wouldn’t be appropriate. Throk had warned him-

_‘But I’m not scared of you.’_

He wasn’t. Throk was good with a blade, yes, but Sendak had never been defeated in hand-to-hand combat before. He did not intend to, either. Fearless but not stupid, Sendak glanced at Haxus. Haxus wasn’t watching him. Could he…?

“Is there none who can defeat this mighty beast?” The Arena announcer sent a spotlight into the crowd, searching for any volunteers. Haxus nudged his boss, whispering to him.

“You should have a go.”

Sendak considered it, and almost immediately was met with a fierce resistance from the less rational part of his mind. He wanted to keep petting Morvok, stars, he could feel the little guy’s purrs vibrating through his palm. And he wasn’t going to give that up any time soon.

“You do it.” Sendak snapped. “Show me what you’re made of.”

Haxus flattened his ears back against his head, eyes wide. “I’m no match for that thing, boss. Did you see how it killed the entire squad down there?”

“Yes, I did.” Sendak shook his head. “Don’t worry. You don’t have to.”

“Oh, thank Zarkon.” Haxus slumped in his seat, wiping a trickle of sweat from his fuzzy brow. “Had me going there for a minute.” He was going to say something else when he breathed in abruptly and paused. Sniffed. Then squinted. “You smell that?”

Sendak went to reply on instinct, a flat _what_ on the tip of his tongue, but inhaled before answering. And what hit his nose sent every one of his senses all the way to heaven. _Someone_ was excited, and he could guess who. Only the lush, fertile body of an Omega could produce such an intoxicating scent. And he just so happened to be fondling one at this moment.

“Not a word.” Sendak growled, Haxus recoiling in a very obvious show of submission. Despite being both Alphas, there _was_ a tier system among them. Survival of the fittest, or something like that. And Sendak was very, _very_ fit. “I’ll take him home.”

“You know the code to Throk’s place?”

Morvok raised an ear, and Sendak shook his head. “No. My place.”

Haxus bit his lip. “Mm, don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Lucky for you that you don’t give me orders, mm?” Sendak flashed an awfully empowered smirk at his Lieutenant, turning his attention to the pliant pile of fluff in his left hand. “You look just about ready to fall asleep.”

“Mrrrrrrrr…” Morvok was halfway to rolling on his back when Sendak’s voice snapped him out of his dreamy haze. He found himself in the most lewd position an Omega could take, legs parted and hands drawn close to his chest. His tongue had lolled from his mouth, his eyes were heavily lid and the faintest blush tinged his cheeks. Welp. There was no hiding from Sendak’s all-seeing gaze, was there? Burning with shame, pleasure and confusion, Morvok sat up quickly only to feel something wet between his thighs. His eyebrows shot right up, a comically aghast look taking over his face. Words failed him, now. Shutting his legs did little to prevent the intoxicating scent of desire escaping him, as it had soaked through his uniform and was now very obviously streaking down his thighs. He lowered his ears, afraid. Throk wasn’t here to protect him, and his heightened senses could pick out every Alpha within a twenty foot radius. He mewled softly, and that was all Sendak needed to draw his arm in and hold Morvok close to his chest. Haxus stared at the sight, ears catching wind of nearby Alphas questioning just who had gone into heat this early in the year.

“Come on.” Sendak whispered to the little Commander peering up at him with huge, glistening eyes. “Let’s take you home.”


	4. Chapter 4

Sendak’s quarters did not look very lived-in. It was a single residential unit with only a bathroom separate from the central living space, spartan furnishings dotted about where necessary. A wide, purple-canopied double bed in the middle of the room caught Morvok’s eye as Sendak carried him in, several black cushions scattered upon it. It looked _very_ soft, but other than that, it looked _high_. High as in it was only accessible by climbing a few feet, and there was no way Morvok could reach the mattress without a ladder. Ears folding in apprehension, he nudged Sendak.

“Erm. You can put me down, now.”

“Right.” Sendak did so hesitantly – he didn’t want to step on the little guy, as he tended to see only what was directly in front of him when in small, enclosed spaces. His quarters were spacious, yes, but the farsighted Commander much preferred looking out into space than admiring his wall décor. He didn’t even have any, other than a poster of Zarkon on the inside of his bathroom door. Who knows what he used _that_ for.

“What’s up with this?” Morvok gestured to the ceiling-mounted bed, at its metal supports that looped under the mattress and held it above ground. “A bit advanced, don’t you think?”

“No. It’s my own design.” Sendak walked over to the bed, the mattress coming up to his chest. “Takes a bit of work to get in. Keeps me sharp.”

“I can’t believe it. You’re all business, even at home. Do you _ever_ relax?”

“I relax.” Sendak said stiffly. “When I want to.”

“After bench pressing yourself into bed, sure.”

“You don’t even know what a bench press is.”

“I’m sure I could figure it out.” Morvok didn’t realize how argumentative he sounded, voice inching into nasally bitch territory while his ears were pulled back, hackles raised. Sendak wasn’t intimidated in the slightest (comparable to a wolf facing a chihuahua) but didn’t belittle his friend – living with Throk, he assumed Morvok had to be on his toes for a snarky quip at all times. Poor guy. No wonder he was so emotionally worn down. Not that Sendak could do much about it. He himself kept the finest mental defences the Empire could test, only lowering them when he needed a good heart-to-heart chat with someone. Which was never – not unless Morvok required his head set straight like he so often did. The precious idiot was now eyeing Sendak’s bed up and down, seemingly heedless of his clothing predicament. Sendak hated to remind him, but that scent was doing his head in. His breaths were shallow on purpose to avoid it – the pheromones would override his self-discipline if left unchecked.

“Morvok.”

Morvok turned, his fingertips woefully short of reaching the bed. “No, I don’t want you to lift me-”

“Your suit.”

The tips of Morvok’s ears curled upwards, then back in as he rubbed his thighs together. They squelched obscenely and he flushed dark purple, turning away from Sendak. “I don’t suppose you have one in my size.”

“No, but I do have other garments you can wear.”

“Oh, bullshit!”

Sendak’s eye widened, taken aback at Morvok’s tone. The smaller Galra continued, rambling in a torrent of self-loathing.

“Why in the Emperor’s name would you ever have something that could fit _me_? It’s not like you collect onesies for kits or- or-”

“I… no.” Sendak shook his head, taking a few steps to close the distance between them. He crouched, minding how Morvok bristled, and brushed his right hand along the side of Morvok’s fluffy jaw. His next words fled in the wake of such a beautiful sensation, one he’d scarcely imagined. “…Oh.”

“Oh?” Morvok repeated softly, his ire ebbing to a much quieter, demure emotion. Something like… wonderment. “That’s not what you’re supposed to say…”

“I have something.” Sendak drew his hand back but Morvok grasped it, pulling it back. “…?”

“Later.” Morvok gazed at him in earnest, standing right between Sendak’s squatting knees and holding his wrist in a vice grip. “Please. If you will.”

_‘…What are we doing?’_

“Can’t.” Sendak shook his head, closing his eyes to avoid seeing Morvok’s sweet little face crumple. “You need to change. Wait here.” Those tiny claws fell away from his wrist, Morvok drawing his hands close to his chest and wringing them like they were all he had. He wore his insecurities for the world to see, and Sendak made a mental note to teach him otherwise. It killed him to reject such closeness, but Sendak’s resolve was unraveling as the seconds ticked by. He strode as elegantly as he could to the bathroom, drank a whole bottle of his suppressive medications and then went to get a shirt for Morvok. All of his shirts were far too big for the smaller Galra, who was less than half his size. So, he pulled out a fitted uniform that clung tightly to whoever wore it – nanofibres or something, he had no clue how it worked – and tossed it to Morvok.

“Here.”

“Right. Turn around.”

Sendak quirked a brow. “There is nothing to be ashamed of.” Galra wore their genitals on the insides of their bodies, and there was no cultural taboo regarding nudity among them. Morvok, however, seemed to be a special case and held the uniform top between two fingers, twirling it around.

“You heard me.”

Sendak wasn’t getting a peep at that luscious body any time soon and sighed, turning as requested. His medicine would take effect soon enough, and then he wouldn’t have this ridiculous horniness to worry about. At least for the next week. He knew he wasn’t supposed to take it more than once a day in much smaller amounts, but surely drinking a week’s supply would just blend all the days of suppression together. It wasn’t like it would invert his dick or something, right? Totally right. He knew what he was doing. (Spoiler alert: he didn’t.)

The way Morvok grunted and gasped as he wormed his way out of his suit wasn’t helping, though, and Sendak had to retreat to the bathroom to keep himself together. Five minutes later he emerged to see Morvok in the dark grey top, which hugged every curve, roll and bulge like wet linen. It was far longer than he was tall, but flounced about his ankles instead of sticking to them. Smart fabric indeed.

Morvok glanced to Sendak, face still flushed.

“What’s the matter?” asked Sendak, approaching with ears directed forwards. “It fits, does it not?”

“It fits.” Morvok affirmed with a nod. “But I, er… well.”

“Ah.” Sendak made a gesture with two fingers to his brow, flicking his hand outwards. “Right. You’re still wet.”  
“I am **not-** ”

“Bathroom’s that way.”

 

Morvok strictly avoided any and all talk of his condition while staying at Sendak’s place, his uniform in the cleaning unit and body still quivering with want. He was hungry, too, for something more pleasant than food goo which Sendak was completely unwilling to provide.

 _‘Quiznak, I actually thought we were going somewhere there…_ ’ he thought, eyeing Sendak who was in the process of removing the armored pieces of his outfit. _‘Could’ve sworn… by his scent… bah. Maybe it was Haxus? No, this… rrgh! Damn it! I need to get back home to Throk.’_ Morvok growled softly, the sound more like a series of fast taps on his vocal chords rather than Sendak’s baritone rumble. ‘ _He’s not even home, the bastard. Oh, I shouldn’t say that. But… but damn it, why? Why can’t I be satisfied, for once…?’_ Thoughts of his dearly beloved partner filled his mind, eliciting longer growls and whines than the purring he’d hoped for. He couldn’t control it, and shook his head violently. Sendak glanced over to him.

“What is it?”

“Nothing!” Morvok snapped, swiftly turning on his heel and folding his arms. The plush carpet beneath his feet tickled quite a bit, inducing a welcome change in his mental state. “Mrrgh.” He wished Sendak had a couch or something he could go and sulk on, but there were only a few dressers and one armor stand furnishing the room. It was a shock compared to Throk’s quarters, where Morvok couldn’t tell a solid object from a bottomless pile of clothes. Then again, Throk had far too many clothes for his own good. He didn’t even wear most of them. And at least he could shop for things that fit, the lucky quiznak—

“Sendak.” Morvok turned around, finally having caught his tongue. Said tongue went right down his throat as Sendak’s nude form filled his vision, making him salivate at once. “Gah!”

“I know, I know.” Sendak placatingly waved his right hand up and down, but for all he understood Morvok’s heat, he couldn’t fathom why the smaller Galra couldn’t just control it. As the minutes passed, his empathy was being buried under the suppressive effects of his medication. “Just bear with it.” That didn’t sound as kind as he’d hoped, and Morvok narrowed his eyes like he’d been insulted.

“Oh, do _excuse me_. I’m going.” He turned, and heard the crackle of Sendak’s mechanical arm stretching out.

“Where?”

“To get something to eat.”

“Not in _that_. You’ll have to wait for your uniform to dry.”

“What’ll I do, then, perish?”

“You might as well. Gh- wait, no. I did not mean-” Sendak stumbled over his words, aghast at their bluntness. “Morvok. I’ll get you something.” A peace offering ought to save his ass. Morvok didn’t seem convinced, and so it was up to Sendak to make good on his promise and deliver. “Will you stay awhile?”

“…I suppose.”

The relief Sendak felt was only minor as opposed to the exultant joy his inner Alpha yearned to express. He nodded, dressed himself in something clean and casual, and grabbed his payment card from the nearby dresser.

“I’ll be back soon.”

  
~

 

Shortly after Sendak’s departure, Morvok heard footsteps outside the door. He stopped trying to get up on the bed (his legs ached, and it was frustrating him) and looked for somewhere to hide. He couldn’t be seen here. If Throk found out, he’d be skinned alive. Morvok’s frantic searching came to a halt the moment Haxus walked through the door, having free access to Sendak’s quarters because _of course he did_. He had Morvok’s floating travel disc tucked under one slender arm, and looked harmless enough in his casual black bodysuit.

“Forgot this.” Haxus put the disc down and Morvok rushed to inspect it. “Don’t worry. I know how much that thing costs.”

Morvok began to purr quite loudly, bringing a smile to Haxus’s lips.

 _‘Aw. Look how happy he is.’_ Haxus bent to pat Morvok on the head but paused upon receiving a venomous glare. _‘Oops.’_

“Try that again and I’ll bite your hand off.” Morvok snapped, his neglected heat having morphed from lust to aggression in an instant. “I’m not a kit.”

“I know that very well.” Haxus said carefully, making his way around the bristling Commander. “But the Boss did ask me to keep an eye on you.”

“What? Why? He’s just gone to-”

“Says you’ve got an early heat.”

Morvok froze, aghast. His purring turned into a series of sharp, shallow breaths, and for a moment it seemed like he was going to break down into tears. Haxus shrugged, not seeming to care one bit.

“Happens to the best of us.” he said, casually hauling himself up onto Sendak’s bed without taking off his uniform or boots. Morvok saw his chance to get up there too but was still mortified enough to implode like a collapsing star, and stood dumbfounded with his disc. Haxus loafed high up beyond Morvok’s line of sight, leaving the Commander to stare at the underside of the bed and wonder just what he’d gotten himself into. If news spread of his condition, he’d be the laughing stock of High Command. Throk would probably disown him for his promiscuity and oh, he couldn’t have that. He still had his multi-function bracelet on (as he always did) and decided to text Throk, just to see what he was up to. It wasn’t like Morvok could entertain himself with anything else in the room.

_-What are you up to?-_

There was no reply. Fifteen minutes passed, then twenty, and Morvok could feel his brain weasels acting up. The nasty little bastards that gnawed at his confidence whenever he was left alone – and sure, he could talk to Haxus, but no, he really couldn’t. He barely knew the guy. Didn’t trust him like he did Sendak. Or Throk. Why did he think of Sendak first…?

He texted again.

_-You better not be dead.-_

This time, a reply came within minutes.

**- _not dead lmao busy-_**

Morvok’s eyes lit up, and he leaned in with fingers racing across the holographic keyboard.

_-With what?-_

No reply.

 _‘Damn it…!’_ Morvok scrunched his face into an awful grimace, ears flattening against the sides of his head. His fur fluffed up and he made a slashing gesture to dismiss the screen, unwilling to stare at the lack of response from his lover. _‘Just what is he doing? He’s on a mission, right? Maybe in the middle of sending out orders to his troops. I shouldn’t disturb him, then. I’ll just leave a little something…’_ He brought up the screen again, clicking out a short message.

_-When will you be back?-_


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HM BACKSTORY ( I know I should reveal it slowly and shit but whatever lmao this is turning into a feelings-exploration fic)

Morvok spent the afternoon at Sendak’s place with much chagrin – Haxus had fallen asleep hours ago and Morvok had no-one to talk to. Throk wasn’t replying to his messages. Sendak wasn’t carrying his own wrist-activated communication device – it sat on the bathroom counter, beeping softly. Morvok put his head in his hands, clawing at the sides of his face. What was he going to do? He needed some sort of stimulation to distract him from his heat. It was driving him absolutely insane, the wetness between his thighs accompanied by an insistent pulsing from his core. He chanced a look up at the bed, where he could see the top of Haxus’s ears. If he tried hard enough, he could wake the Lieutenant and badger him into alleviating his woes. His need for contact could be eased if only he had a set of firm, strong hands around him, a cock up his hole, and…

 _‘No!’_ Morvok dug his claws into his furry cheeks, aghast. He couldn’t. Not while he was so faithful to Throk. Throk, who wasn’t there to help him in his time of need, but that didn’t matter if Zarkon had work for him to do.

There was an old Galra superstition that the universe had ways of punishing disloyalty – be it to one’s mate or the Emperor himself. Morvok had been punished enough simply for being born and seen as lesser than his fellows. He wasn’t going to take any chances.

Still, he wondered when Sendak would return. And what, if anything, he could do about his stickiness. He was becoming dehydrated the longer he sat on the floor and slicked, but the thought of getting up meant he’d feel the cold kiss of air against his oversensitive, wet backside and _eugh_ , he felt _obscene_.

It was late in the evening when Sendak returned, two sentries carrying a large crate into the room before exiting at once. Morvok perked his ears up, uncoiling himself from a tight ball of misery.

“Sendak?”

“I’ve brought food.” Sendak opened up the crate, his metal hand easily crunching the lid in half. “This is for you.” Out came a tub of the exact same worms Morvok had ordered from Vrepit Sal’s, and the smaller Commander’s eyes lit up with delight.

“Oh! Thank you dearly! And what about the rest?” He dug in to the food without caring for the temperature, absolutely ravenous. Sendak smirked.

“If you want the rest, you might want to stay awhile. I received correspondence regarding Throk’s whereabouts. He’ll be indisposed for the week.”

“The week?!” Morvok choked, spluttering a mess of broth and meat shreds all over the carpet. Sendak’s eye twitched.

“Yes.” He neglected to say just _why_ Throk would take any longer than a few hours to warp back to the Main Fleet, knowing how and when to keep his mouth shut. A hiss of movement had Sendak’s left ear twitching towards Haxus, who lifted his sleepy head and yawned.

“Myaaaaurgh. Hey, boss. Good to see you.”

“Get your boots off my bed.”

Haxus’s ears drooped, and he slunk off the bed before rolling into a crouch as he dropped onto the floor. “Hyup. Alright. Babysitting’s done, I’m going home.”

Morvok glared daggers at the Lieutenant’s retreating form, noting how he clasped arms with Sendak before heading out. Sendak looked apologetically towards Morvok, lifting some smaller items out of the large grey crate.

“Where are you going to put those?” Morvok asked, seeing no shelves or cupboards anywhere. Sendak only crossed the room and pressed a button on the right wall, stepping back as a thin silver sheet extruded itself out.

 _‘Well, that answers that.’_ Morvok thought with brows furrowed, not liking Sendak’s silence one bit. Had he used up his daily word quota or something? He wasn’t even showing any microexpressive tells, the sort of thing Morvok looked for to key him in on how the unreadable Galra was feeling. Sendak placed all the packaged food items on the shelf with exactly an inch of space between them, all corners aligned with mechanical precision. He could measure distances flawlessly due to his augmented right eye, and did have a bit of a perfectionistic streak as a result.

“Sendak…”

Sendak turned, catching Morvok mid-creep. “What?”

Morvok stood as tall as he could, bringing his hands together. “Is my suit dry yet?”

 

Temptation fled the moment Morvok was on his way home, dressed properly and riding his disc along purple-lit halls. It had been hard for him to take just a packet of dried meats and zoom out the door, but the toss-up between begging Sendak to fuck him and staying faithful had almost been too much to handle. Morvok wasn’t a confrontational sort at all. He kept himself safe by bowing, scraping and when he could, annihilating. Now was the time for him to creep back home and curl into a ball, vigorously masturbate and wait for Throk. What else could he do?

 

~

 

Throk was having the time of his life, enjoying the third day of his victory-vacation with Prorok and one very satisfied crew. They were luxuriating in the radiance of pure Quintessence, some even bathing in it as Throk had a pool aboard his Battlecruiser with special infused water. He lounged alongside said pool, wearing nothing but a pair of UV-resistant sunglasses. Everyone had those on due to the ship coasting beside a small, fiery sun. The glasses enabled them to admire the sun’s radiance and swirly patterns without having their eyeballs burnt out.

Throk reached over to where Prorok was snoozing peacefully, all sprawled out in a long black deck chair with his tongue sticking out. Throk made a grab for Prorok’s purple drink and managed to steal a sip, his friend deep in dreams and none the wiser. Now _this_ was worth fighting for, Throk thought to himself. His underlings de-stressing and powering up in the Quintessence Zarkon so generously rationed out to his Commanders. A long, hard battle avoided simply by bringing two brilliant minds and ships together. Not a lick of worry to touch him now that Morvok was out of his hair.

Ah. Morvok.

Throk’s ears swiveled back as he contemplated his lover’s most recent text. He’d not replied, but Morvok’s insecure pestering had only grown more troubling as of late. Throk hadn’t the slightest clue what to do, and so avoided the task by turning off his armband. But he couldn’t hide forever.

 _‘What’s wrong with him?’_ He chewed on the edge of Prorok’s glass, narrowing his eyes. _‘Doesn’t he know that I’m on a mission?’_   It hadn’t always been like this, with Morvok badgering Throk for time and attention he just didn’t have. In the beginning, they’d been near inseparable. Throk idly remembered when they’d first met, closing his eyes.

 

-

_“So, you’re a Commander now?” Warlord Ranveig glowered down at the newly promoted Morvok, voice booming throughout the lounge. Thace and Prorok watched from a corner of the room, Thace’s innocent face buried in his superior’s shoulder. Morvok stared at Ranveig with the fear of death in his huge, white eyes._

_“I-I suppose so, yes.”_

_“Pfah!” Ranveig’s ears flicked up in a clear gesture of dominance. “Certainly don’t look it. Look at you, you misshapen lump of a creature. Barely even Galra.”_

_Morvok’s shivering turned into outright tremors as he wrung his hands, ears pulled back and fur fluffed as much as it could. But he still didn’t look big or intimidating enough – certainly not compared to Ranveig – and whimpered. His silver tongue failed him in the face of such roiling hatred, not even a growl making its way out of his mouth._

_“Cursed little midget.” said another Galra, a Lieutenant of someone powerful enough to make Morvok reconsider his existence. “We should put a stop to this madness before he gets too cocky.”_

_“I agree.” Ranveig growled, reaching for Morvok’s head. It was then that someone batted his massive hand aside and grasped his wrist, bony fingers squeezing into thick fur._

_“I do not.” Throk’s smooth voice rolled from his thin, sneering lips. “If you would weaken the empire by stripping it of a new Commander, the Emperor will hear of it.”_

_Ranveig tugged his hand away, snarling at the slim yet none too breakable Galra. He couldn’t say a thing against Throk without sounding outright heretic, knowing fully well that infighting was frowned upon amongst the High Command. But Morvok didn’t deserve his position, not in Ranveig’s opinion at least. No combat accolades. No strategic miracles. Just grueling, menial work that dragged his name high enough for Zarkon to notice. With an angered snort and flick of the ears, Ranveig turned away, dragging the spitting Lieutenant off to have a good old rant session. Throk bent to place his hands on Morvok’s shoulders, the smaller Galra twitching at his touch. Throk sighed. How did this shivering ball of fluff ever manage to get this far?Morvok gazed at him with those huge, watery eyes, his curly-tipped ears flattened back and angled downwards. The poor bastard was terrified. Throk, looking sharp and severe without even trying made an attempt to be sociable. He smoothed out the fluff of Morvok’s puffy cheeks with his thumbs, looking over the quivering Commander._

_“You need to be stronger. Your position demands it.”_

_Morvok sniffled, scrunching his face up like a kit. “I’ve been strong my whole life.” he whispered. “I’m so tired…”_

_“Then come,” said Throk, and scooped Morvok up into his arms, propriety be damned. “I will teach you how to endure.”_

-

 

That had been ten years ago, the first time Throk had ever bothered to interfere with someone’s life. He was strong, independent and calculating, but so very, very lonely. And in Morvok he saw a chance to prove himself, to hold a position in someone’s heart rather than just the Empire’s ranks. They’d grown to be fast friends, with Throk alternating between tough love and gentle persuasion to mold Morvok into the Commander he was today. He taught tactics and detachment to the overemotional little git, and produced a sadistic monster that made Zarkon proud. Morvok could hand down death sentences on entire populations without batting an eyelid, all to receive Throk’s warm praise on his return home. It was much more comfortable for him to dish out cruelty than feel sorry for the Empire’s enemies, as when he felt, he felt too much. Strong, unshakeable emotions that could sway him off course, and stupid little feelings did not make for a good leader. Morvok was more sensitive than most, being an Omega coming from a family who disowned him only to be thrown into the torturous wringer of Galran military training. He hadn’t broken like the others – hadn’t become a crisp, clever paragon of strength and usefulness. He’d always been in pieces, from the day he was born and met his father’s disgusted face. Throk showed him the love he’d never known, and couldn’t identify at all. But it felt good to be spoken kindly to for once in his life. And if that wasn’t love, he didn’t know what was.

Throk ran his fingers through the fur on Prorok’s fat gut, eyeing Thace who was watching from across the pool. Something unnerved him about the shrewd Lieutenant but there was nothing he could do to dissuade that piercing gaze. Thace cared for his boss, and Throk wasn’t about to hurt him even if his claws _did_ look particularly sharp. He gently scritched at Prorok’s belly, eliciting a deep, rumbling purr from the sleeping Galra. Throk smiled, his fangs poking out ever so slightly. Prorok was different to Morvok in all the right ways. Big and soft, tall enough for him to dance with, and not a hint of insecurity in sight. They’d only been friends for a year, but what a good year that had been. Throk couldn’t hold a conversation with anyone like he could with Prorok, and even silence was comfortable in the older Commander’s presence. There wasn’t a soul in the universe like him, and Throk found himself very much endeared.

Prorok on the other hand was fond of Throk, appreciating his tactical knowledge and excellent reflexes where he himself had none. He was more a brute force kind of guy, one who took initiative where he could and steamrolled his enemies with raw Galran might. He hadn’t been in a ground fight in decades, but that didn’t matter when Zarkon was more than happy to keep him leading from his ship. Sendak was the one to fight with his troops and conduct precise strike missions. Prorok? He handled large-scale battles with one finger and his voice. Throk preferred holding positions and defending them, knowing the ins and outs of every location he worked at after a single look at its layout. Space stations, ships, giant flying fortresses… He could work anywhere Zarkon required. Morvok… couldn’t really do anything special, not that Throk knew of. His success was in the fine work of his underlings, all helmet-wearing Galra that Morvok despised looking directly at him. Throk continued to pet Prorok as he thought. Morvok really was ruled by his insecurities, and it showed in his every move. From the way he walked to the texts he sent… it was infuriating. He’d barely learned anything from Throk, despite having come a long way from where he was ten years ago. Throk scrunched his hand into a fist, taking up a nice big tuft of Prorok’s fur before releasing it.

 _‘Why do I even bother with him?’_ He hated to admit it, but the spark of joy he received when Morvok looked at him was long gone. It was more an inconvenience to deal with the smaller Galra, what with having to make constant accomodations for his size and sensitivities. With Prorok, he didn’t have to do a thing. The guy was a self-contained powerhouse, even if his personality did fall a bit flat. Throk could deal with that. It was easier than having to micromanage the way he behaved for Morvok’s sake. But he couldn’t just abandon Morvok. They’d been living together for two years, and that had been after Throk found his lover so weak from starvation that Morvok had almost died. Morvok only ever did his best to please him. And here Throk was, fondling somebody else.

He looked up to see Thace taking a seat on the other side of Prorok, his neat little beard glistening as if he’d just groomed it. Throk nodded, lifting his fingers up.

“He’s relaxed.” Thace said softly, gazing at Prorok with an expression Throk couldn’t quite read. “I rarely see him like this.”

“Mm.” Guarded, Throk traced a circle around Prorok’s navel. “Do you touch him?”

Thace perked his ears up, cheeks colouring slightly. “It would be… a little inappropriate. Why do you ask?”

“Listen to that purr. He could use a pair of hands on him now and then.”

“Rrrrrr…” Prorok seemed to agree, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath. Throk’s lips curled up at the corners, and Thace couldn’t help but smile.

“You love him.”

Throk answered smoothly. “As a friend, yes.”

“Nothing more?” Thace almost sounded disappointed. “And here I was hoping you’d look after him this season.”

Throk slowly raised his eyes to meet the Lieutenant’s insistent stare, reading his meaning at once. “He’s an Omega?”

“Not quite. Beta.”

“Ahhhh! No wonder I couldn’t scent him.”

Thace grinned. “He’s quite good at masking it. Give it a few weeks, though…”

“Graah. He’ll be crawling all over me.”

“Nothing wrong with that.” Thace said with a wink, wiggling his stripy ears. “I’ve managed to stay standing in the past.”

“Oh?” Now Throk was interested, leaning forwards just enough to reach around Prorok’s generous waist. “You and he have…”

“A few times, just for relief.” Thace nodded. “Nothing serious.”

“Hm.” Throk tilted his head to the left, resting his ear against Prorok’s chest. Loud, rich purring combined with a steady heartbeat soothed him on a primal level. “He’s not your type?”

Thace shook his head. “It’d be unprofessional. My duty to the Empire comes before my body’s desires.”

Throk quirked his lips up. “Good lad.”


End file.
